Christmas Discord

Home : Stories by Catw00man : Because You’re Mine : Christmas Discord

Summary: There’s no such thing as Christmas.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: R
SERIES/SETTING: Because You’re Mine
CHARACTERS: Hawk POV
PROMPT: Taming the Muse #125 (#100 for me) - Chiwara & December Challenge
COMPLETED: December 25, 2008
WORDS: 1,664
DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here’s a little extra Christmas treat for everyone. This fic is set in the Because You’re Mine Universe, but it remains to be seen if it wil be part of the main story line. I’m hoping it will. But anyway, here’s Hawk’s take on Christmas.
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Main Recreation Yard: Los Angeles Corrections Facility

It don’t matter how many years I spend here there ain’t been a Christmas yet.  Sure the day has come and gone, can’t have a December without the 25th.  But it ain’t Christmas, not in here.  There are some who try to pretend, some who say the words and even pass around trinkets.  But it ain’t Christmas.  It’s just a bunch of fools still trying to cling to who they were instead of seeing where they are.

Shove my hands deeper into my pockets and stare out across the yard at all the other inmates huddled against the cold.  Some are trying to exercise, others are having a smoke, but none of them act like it’s Christmas Eve.  Because it ain’t.  It ain’t nothing but one more day in lockup. Anyone who thinks different is a complete idiot.

Reach into my pocket and pull out a deck of squares.  Fish out a cigarette and light it before slipping the pack back into my coat.  Most of us like to be on our own this time of year.  Probably has to do with what these days used to mean.  Take a long, slow drag and savor the solitude as well as the burn in my lungs.  My crew knows better than to fuck with me now.  Couple years ago Curly tried to get all holiday spirit on us and I had to bust my knuckles on his ribs.  Did get that damn jingle bell off him though.  It’s probably why I didn’t end up spending New Year’s in Ad Seg because the guards couldn’t stand the damn thing either.

Take another drag and look over the yard again.  There are a few holiday things here and there, a splash of red and green, but it wouldn’t matter if they put up a huge ass damn tree right in the middle of the big yard.  It still wouldn’t be Christmas and it ain’t because we’re all locked inside.  Holidays are usually spent inside anyway so it don’t matter where we are.  They could decorate the whole damn lock up and caroling queens could sing cell to cell but it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.  It ain’t Christmas because of what’s here.  It’s cause of what’s not.

Lean back against the concrete wall behind me and suck the heat from my cig.  Hold it in as long as I can and then let the smoke out as one long stream mixed with my chilled breath.  Watch it all disappear in the frosty December breeze and only then do I take another drag.  It aughtta warm me, smoking usually does.  But not today.  Nothing’s gonna warm me up today.  Finish off the rest of my square and then pinch it out with my fingers and shove it in my pocket.  Guards’ll be rounding us up soon and I don’t wanna wait for that.  I’d rather keep to myself.  Turn and shuffle along the side of the yard and back into the main entrance.  Avoid going through the mess and head down a side hall that will take me straight to my cell block. 

When I knew I was gonna get locked up I thought it’d be the lack of freedom I’d hate the most.  I thought it would be the cramped cells and gangs and arrogant pigs that would make my life hell.  But I was wrong.  Turns out you can get used to lots of things.  It ain’t the lock up that’s completely unnatural.  It’s the fact you’re locked up with nothin’ but a bunch of guys.

It ain’t right what happens to you in here and there ain’t no way there can be a Christmas.  I don’t got many good memories making up my life but one of the only one’s I have is my Moms singing Christmas songs in the kitchen and makin’ apple cider.  She wasn’t doin’ nothing but heating up stuff from the store, but still it was right.  I ‘member the warmth of her smile when she passed out the drinks and how my little sister would go on and on about somethin’ none of us really cared about.  But it was right.  It was balanced the way this place ain’t.  Hard and soft all in one place and it was right.  Somehow when we were all together like that even my bastard Pops couldn’t fuck it up. 

But that’s all gone now.  There ain’t no going back even if the doors weren’t bolted and holding me inside.  Trudge up the stairs to the third level and each step feels like it adds more weight to my shoulders.  Time was I coulda been a good man on the outside.  But even if they let me out now I know I lost my chance.  I ain’t the same no more.  Not after what’s been made of me.  Ain’t no way I could find a woman and have all that back.  There ain’t no peace in kids for me and I ain’t gonna run around and make a bunch just to say I could.  No woman’s gonna fix what’s broken so I ain’t even gonna try.

That’s the real punishment here, not the loss of freedom or being locked in a cage.  It’s the being trapped with a bunch of alpha males all sniffin’ for a mate.  It does something to your head.  It changes you until you ain’t fit to be with a woman even if you could.  It’s why so many of us come back cause we don’t know how to be nothin’ else no more and it’s why most of us will never know peace again.

Make my way down to my open cell but stop short in the doorway.  Someone’s been in here.  Look around to pinpoint exactly what’s out of place and after a moment I see it.  My pillow ain’t exactly where I left it.  Someone’s been snoopin’ around in my space and once I find out who they’ll wish they were never born. 

Look down the long row of cells for any trace of who could’ve been in here but there ain’t none, just the normal traffic up and down the cell block before lock down.  Narrow my eyes and turn back to my cell.  Walk over to the rack and try to ignore the feeling of violation that fills me with each step.  We ain’t got much here and it’s bad enough when the pigs give us a shake down.  That’s why fucking with someone else’s shit is such taboo.  No one’s had the guts to fuck with me in a long time and when I find out who--

Freeze when I see the corner of a paper sticking out from under my pillow.  I know that paper.  It’s thicker than a normal notebook and perfect for drawin’.  There’s only one person who could have put it there and he should know better than anyone what’ll happen if he screws with me.  Grab the pillow and toss it to the end of the rack and my eyes widen in surprise.  There’s no way he would--there’s no way.

Sit down on the mattress and reach for the surprisingly uncreased paper.  Draw my fingertips over the shaded lines I still know from kicking over them near every day in the yard.  I’d know his work even if he hadn’t scrawled his initials in the bottom corner.  Finding a pad especially for drawin’ in here weren’t easy…but it was worth it cause this is a hell of a lot better than crude drawings in the dirt.  This is…something there ain’t no words for.

Gaze at the cabin nestled deep in the woods and I’ve seen the picture before, but not like this.  What I saw was plain sketches, outlines.  This is more.  This is like a real life picture in shades of grey.  I can see frost on the trees and footsteps in the snow.  There’s even a deer peeking out from the thicker woods surrounding the cabin.  But that ain’t what’s so real.  It’s the smoke coming from the chimney I can all but smell and the light in the windows that beams out around the tree in the window.  It’s alive.  I swear the damn thing’s alive all from the stroke of his pencil. 

Trace the trail of smoke with a calloused finger and I swear it seems to move at my touch.  It’s like I can hear the breeze that causes the trees to sway and the crackling of the fire inside.  It’s…right.  It’s perfect, isolated and free from the world I know I ain’t belong to anymore.  It’s an escape from everything right in my hands.  It’s Christmas.

How the fuck could he know? 

Laughter rings out and my head snaps up as I’m jerked back to the present.  Someone’s cuttin’ up down the block and ‘fore long they could be walkin’ by.  Anyone could be passin’ by and I ain’t want to share this.  Look over the picture again, memorizing each and every detail and then very deliberately fold it in half once, twice, three times.  Carefully go over the creases until the piece is completely flat and then turn towards the wall.  Peel back the poster of “Miss July” then carefully slip the paper into a crack in the cinderblock wall.  I’ll look at it again later, after lockdown, when I know I’ll be alone.  Rest my hand over the poster once it’s back in place and remember the perfect scene.

Somehow he knew.  Somehow, even in here, he gave me Christmas for the first time.  He shouldn’t be able to do that.  No one should, least of all him.  It goes against everythin’ I know.  Curl my fingers over the glossy poster and lean against the wall.  It don’t matter.  It don’t matter anymore than the two shadows he drew in the window by the Christmas tree.  They could be anyone, but I know they ain’t.

“Merry Christmas, Red.”

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com